


Northern Hospitality

by dzemaeldarkhold (deumion)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Double Penetration, Food Kink, Food Sex, M/M, Multi, Oral Fixation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M, stupid sexy elezen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:38:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5600017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deumion/pseuds/dzemaeldarkhold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House Haillenarte hosts House Dzemael's finest for an unforgettable night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Northern Hospitality

**Author's Note:**

> If I have to have these kinky thoughts about these filthy elezen then I'm dragging the entire fandom down to the trash heap with me.

As if life wasn’t hard enough for a Haillenarte after the Calamity, in the leadup to Starlight—a whirlwind had just hit Haillenarte Manor.

 

A whirlwind named _House Dzemael_ , even. The cleanup would take bells, even with the brothers helping the staff—Stephanivien in the kitchens, Aurvael in the parlor, which left Francel with the grand hall: the epicenter of the devastation.

 

It was the Ishgardian way, to feast knights come back from moons away from home, moons living off rations, stale bread and scavenged meat in the wilds. It was an honor they eminently deserved—and it was tradition for the biggest beneficiary of the knights’ valor to shoulder the cost of feeding them. So when no less than three of the Haillenarte Skyfire Locks fell to heretics, and each and every one was prized free of their tainted grasp by Dzemael blood and courage—well, the dictates of tradition were obvious. And if they hadn’t been, Count de Dzemael would have been too happy to spell them out (having never once before missed a chance to enforce the Ishgardian way or needle House Haillenarte and not being about to start now).

 

Besides, not only would it be Dzemael knights eating on Haillenarte’s tab, but the Count’s own son. Grinnaux de Dzemael may have given up a great deal by becoming a brother of the Heavens’ Ward, but there were certain indulgences he would not be denied—and, since he himself had taken the heads of the heretics responsible, no one honorable could deny him them.

 

This, then, was the story of how Haillenarte came to host Ser Grinnaux de Dzemael, his right-hand man Paulecrain, and their attendants in banquet—and, subsequently, of how Francel came to find himself picking through the mess left on the grand tables, overwhelmed.

 

It wasn’t only the scope of the culinary destruction that made Francel’s movements slow and uncertain, his eyes focused on something other than sorting silver into a bucket. The memory of the feast had him firmly in its grip, and everything he touched only brought details of it through the haze and daze to the forefront of his mind.

 

He pulled a silver goblet ( _Grinnaux and Paulecrain had used identical ones, silver with a light bubbly wine filling them, to start the banquet with a toast, and this had been the first time Francel had ever been this close to either of them. Sure, he had seen Grinnaux from formal distance, which did an excellent job of making his enormous frame seem like a trick of perspective rather than an overwhelming fact. He had seen Paulecrain from a distance, too, in both Dzemael and Fortemps colors, and when Haurchefant had answered his hushed, wondering question of what exactly Paulecrain had_ done _with only a tightened jaw and a furrowed brow—well, he’d resolved then that never seeing Paulecrain “Coldfire” up close was a laudable goal. But now, with the sharp angles of their faces clearly lit…)_ from under a chicken’s carcass to dump in the bucket as well.

 

Next was a pie pan _(Paulecrain was a glutton, Francel could clearly remember watching him tip his head back and using his fingertips to push the last of that pie completely into his mouth)_ with a fish’s head in it _(but Grinnaux was ten times worse; the plan had been for the Haillenarte household to respectfully allow the guests to eat first and then take what they had left, that plan vanished as the family had watched a truly shocking amount of food vanish into Grinnaux’s mouth);_ the latter was tossed to the dogs as Francel diligently continued his work.

 

He blushed red, though, as he picked up a stray shard of a mug _(Paulecrain had quietly remarked to Grinnaux that ‘the youngest—Francel, yes? He’s been watching us like he desperately wishes it was him splayed on this platter, not a duck,’ while deftly pulling apart the legs of the duck, Grinnaux chuckling to himself as Paulecrain handed one leg to him and kept the other for himself—Francel had dropped the mug he was holding from shock and dived under the table to retrieve the pieces, hoping the roast would distract them from noticing)_ and turned it over in his hands before throwing it out: it was embarrassing because it was _true_ . He’d watched them gorge themselves and wanted nothing more than to be part of that meal. At first he’d tried to tell himself it was only because he was hungry, and they were hogging all of the food ( _Paulecrain had an uncivilized habit of eschewing the marrow spoon to simply suck it out of the beef bones, Grinnaux had an equally uncivilized habit of biting and sucking rib bones clean of flesh; Francel had watched their lips and swallowed heavily when they did, even though he’d nothing in his mouth)_ but that proved less and less defensible a position as the evening went on.

 

There was a spoon bent out of shape _(Grinnaux had used it to scrape sauces from plates, loath to let even the smallest tidbits escape him)_ on top of a heap of discarded river crab shells _(Paulecrain broke the shells with his bare hands, he ate more like a beast than a man_ ); Francel straightened the spoon and returned it to its bucket. His father had begun sighing in dismay by the third course, able to see the writing on the wall and probably imagining gilcoins flying away with little wings; Francel had realized the cost too but was softly groaning rather than sighing as he thought about the immensity of the undertaking sating their appetites was turning out to be.

 

At some point—and his hands shook, handling the flutes ( _Grinnaux and Paulecrain drank as much as they ate, turning it into a game between the two of them to knock back fine cordials like single-gulp shots)_ —at some point, they had realized just how tantalized Francel was, and decided to exploit it _(They had needed someone to keep their cups full and picked Francel, they let their hands brush against his as they called him tremulous and shy and pulled the bottle from his hand when he was too transfixed by their tongues at the corners of their mouths and the points of their teeth to pour fast enough for them_ ) and it was clearly the Fury’s mercy that his brothers only thought their intent was to humiliate Francel _(And he was humiliated, trying to keep the bulge in the loin of his trousers out of their sight while he stood right next to them)_ , not to toy with him like a pair of cats tormenting a mouse _(And he was tormented: Paulecrain made a bet with Grinnaux and subsequently lost fifty gil as both of them watched the eldest son of Dzemael suck a sausage straight out of its casing, gulping without chewing only two pronounced lumps down his throat and a proud sigh after and not asking to be excused just for five minutes so he could finish himself into a handkerchief was the hardest thing Francel had done in moons)._

 

But now, the torture was over ( _the two of them didn’t slow down until dessert, amusing themselves by catching candied chestnuts in their mouths and rolling chocolate truffles over their tongues until they melted)_ and Francel could try and recover his dignity—recover his dignity by cleaning up after them like a servant while they retired to the guest room, his stomach growling while theirs were filled ( _and how: Francel had half a mind to measure with hands to see if their bellies actually held all that or if they merely contained portals to the void inside them; as it was he settled for watching their hands lazily resting on their stomachs as they discussed between themselves something too soft for him to hear_ ), and his mind unable to be brought to bear on even this menial task, this simple thing, when all he could think about was Grinnaux’s smile as he drawled “More…”

 

“My lord?”

 

A maid’s voice shocked him out of reverie, a flush rising to his cheeks as he said “Yes?” too quickly and too defensively, unconsciously twisting to hide his groin from her eyes.

 

“My lord—the guests of honor—they’ve told me to summon you to their room.”

 

He blinked. “…Is there something wrong?” Francel had checked the room before they arrived, there shouldn’t have been anything out of place, anything that would displease them--sheets of vanya silk and quilts of cloud cotton, fresh tapers and plenty of wood for the fire, even a plate of chocolates for midnight snacking.

 

“I don’t know, my lord. They—they simply told me to summon you.” There was a hesitance in her voice, and a refusal to meet his eyes, and that told Francel that there was something more going on here—that she was translating whatever they’d actually said into something else, something she thought he’d rather hear. Most curious.

 

“Very well. I shall see them forthwith.” It wasn’t worth it to quiz her on what was really going on when he could simply go straight to the source. “If you would take over the cleanup here, then.” Without waiting for her assent (which was guaranteed, anyhow), Francel turned on his heel and proceeded to the wing that held their guests.

 

It was on the other side of the manor, and Francel used the walk to mentally prepare himself. His pent-up… _energy_ needed some form of transformation before he had to handle whatever request they had of him, and the easiest thing to transmute it into was pride. After all—by now, the favor had been repaid. Haillenarte and Dzemael were no longer debtor and creditor—and he, as a trueborn son of Haillenarte, had every right to look trueborn Grinnaux de Dzemael in the eye and demand to treat with him as equals. Which meant that, really—continuing to treat him as a servant, to clean up after him and be at his beck and call…

 

By the time he’d reached the finest chamber of the guest wing, Francel had worked himself into a good fit of indignation that was just waiting for an offense to set it off. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he knocked at the door…to no response. So he knocked once again, louder—and was about to pound on the door when Grinnaux’s muffled voice said “Come in.” Letting out that deep breath in an annoyed sigh, Francel opened the door, as bidden, and stepped into their room.

 

For a moment, he simply stood there in silence, blinking—the fire was banked low and only one candle was lit, leaving the room quite dark, as if they’d already gone abed. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust—and then to pick out Grinnaux and Paulecrain. Francel opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed, and tried again. “You summoned me?” came out much weaker than he’d wanted… because when he could distinguish the two knights from the furniture they were draped over, he saw that they were already—already ‘unfit to receive visitors,’ was how his father would have delicately put it. Both men were out of jackets, doublets, even shirts, naked from the waist up and even bold enough to have unfastened their belts and undone their trousers. Francel could clearly see why they’d want to be out of confining clothes, for perfectly innocent reasons—but his own reaction to both of them lounging in the darkened room, looking for all the world like panthers after a successful hunt, lazy and heavy-bellied—it was far from innocent.

 

“We did, Haillenarte,” Grinnaux drawled. “We’ve got a quibble with your service.” He looked at Paulecrain and nodded towards Francel—who was already frowning.

 

“A ‘quibble.’” Francel said, repeating the word with an angry stress. Paulecrain was standing and moving towards him, but all of his attention was on Grinnaux’s stupid, smug, entitled face. “You could not deal with this ‘quibble’ with the staff, you needed _me_?”

 

“Yeah. See, we’ve full bellies at last, thanks to your house. But—“ Paulecrain shut the door behind Francel, making him start. “—four moons in the highlands left us with full balls as well.” Grinnaux’s white teeth gleamed in the low light as he smiled. “Care to help us with that, Haillenarte?”

 

His jaw dropped open. “I beg your pardon?” There was no way he had heard that correctly--not even Grinnaux was bold enough to just--just invite his host’s son to bed like that, treat a son of Haillenarte like a common bedwarmer...

 

Paulecrain was behind him, and with a light shove to the small of his back Francel was stepping forward, closer to where Grinnaux reclined on the bed. “Pretty, prim little thing. I like that.” Grinnaux beckoned to him. “And I know you like us.”

 

Francel stepped closer, but only one step. The shock was wearing off, and--since he could feel the carpet under his feet, blood rising everywhere, and the confines of his clothing (too, too well), he was forced to conclude that he wasn’t imagining this, dreaming this. If this was reality, then-- “You are _forward_ , ser.” --in reality, he could conduct himself like the nobility he was, not a besotted fool (or worse, an _aroused_ fool, too randy to be anything but improperly eager).

 

“I am.” Grinnaux said, evidently unfazed by accusations of rudeness. “I saw you watching us. We thought you would be… amenable.”

 

And he was. Paulecrain behind, Grinnaux before, both offering what he’d been wanting even before he was willing to admit it to himself… But that was not the way it was done in Ishgard, not with highborn men. There had to be more to it--a chase, a _hunt_. It was tradition. So, even as his pulse quickened, Francel stood as tall as he could, and looked down his nose at Grinnaux. “Perhaps I merely watched the food. You were aware that was meant to feed both households?”

 

Paulecrain laughed behind him, then his hand was on Francel’s shoulder and he was leaning down to speak in his ear. “You watched the food. You watched it vanish down our gullets and we watched you sweat and squirm--we’re not bashful maidens, we know what it looks like when a man’s driven to distraction by desire.”

 

Then he was pushing Francel again, onto Grinnaux--who caught him, pulling him astride his lap and holding him there and he didn’t need to, Francel was frozen already, pressed against his belly, the muscle stretched under his fingertips and rounded against his front and his face pressed into Grinnaux’s chest and his brain sputtering, guttering, completely failing to string a response together.

 

“This is what you like, isn’t it?” came Grinnaux’s voice from above his head. “Haillenarte’s youngest son, hot and bothered by feasting his guests…”

 

“You, _ser…_ ” Francel said, lifting his head and raising his voice in a demand for dignity that promptly died on his lips: Grinnaux was reaching for the plate of chocolates. And he took one, took it into his mouth with his eyes on Francel, sucking on it till it melted and Francel watched his throat as he swallowed, unable to meet his eyes for fear of losing it completely.

 

“I’ll make you a dessert offer.” Grinnaux said, shifting his hips underneath Francel and making it clear what that was a euphemism for. “A poor starveling tidbit like you, maybe you’d like the rest of this candy for yourself. Or--” He grinned as Paulecrain circled round the bed, to climb on from the opposite side, “--if you’d rather we take it from your fingers…”

 

The sound Francel made surprised even him, a choked sort of sigh, and before he’d finished it he was stretching to reach for the plate. Grinnaux pushed it within his reach, and smirked as Francel took one and brought it to his lips, fingers trembling (what was more arousing? their mouths, their watching him, the fact that Grinnaux could _feel_ how hard he was? it was a dizzying question).

 

And of course he took it, he kept eye contact as he did, he only broke it to close his eyes in a show of bliss as he swallowed. “Real soft and smooth,” he murmured--as he did, reaching around to squeeze Francel’s arse, clearly amused at his own double-entendre.

 

Two could play at that game, though...and Francel would put on a poor showing, to be as overwhelmed as some virginal maid, nothing but gasps and moans. “I’m glad it’s to my guest’s satisfaction,” he returned, in the same tone Grinnaux had used, and was rewarded by knowing smiles from both men.

 

Paulecrain next, and when he’d taken the candy he then took Francel’s hand, kissing the knuckles like he would those of a lady of breeding. “My lord is generous,” he said, but the twist in his smile belied the twist of meaning: ‘his lord’ would be playing the maid to a common-born knight--and Halone preserve him, but Francel was _ready_ , was more than ready, already rocking his hips against Grinnaux from desperation for stimulation.

 

Grinnaux hadn’t taken his hand from Francel’s arse, and was hooking his thumb over the waist of his trousers as Francel offered him another. This piece was tiny--more a sort of confectionary filigree--and Francel could place it on his tongue, then shiver as Grinnaux licked his fingertips. Perhaps the size was unsatisfactory--for when Francel offered Paulecrain his next, Grinnaux looked to him and jerked his head slightly, and Paulecrain leaned in to share with his master. Both men were focused on each other, lips and tongues moving in a most practiced way, leaving Francel to watch, wondering. That Grinnaux showed an unusual amount of favor to his second-in-command was common knowledge (it was even rumored that he was maneuvering to fill a recent vacancy on the Ward with Paulecrain), but...this degree of intimacy didn’t circulate in the rumor mills, and it made Francel curious. To be close enough to share everything--meals, beds, bedmates--Gods, did they do this often? Lure others to a bed in order to…

 

Francel groaned, his painfully-hard cock twitched, and this seemed to break what was going on between his guests. “Felt that,” Grinnaux observed with a sly look, pinching his arse once more before running his hands up Francel’s sides, underneath his bliaud. “Mm--you’re nothing more than a little morsel,” he said, feeling how close he was to spanning his waist. “Gonna be a tight fit…”

 

Rocking his hips ever harder against Grinnaux (dimly aware that this might not be wise, that he might be rushing and priming himself to spoil his appetite, but unable to bring himself to care), Francel shut Grinnaux’s mouth with a particularly large piece before asking “Promise?” in a breathy enough tone to make Paulecrain moan.

 

“Cheekier than I thought you’d be,” Paulecrain said before taking his next piece (sucking Francel’s fingertips into his mouth too, letting him feel teeth and tongue before releasing). “Have you even seen a cock not your own before?”

 

“That--nnnngh,” Francel was rutting hard, now with one hand awkwardly pressed to his groin, trying to increase the amount of friction, “that’d be telling, ser.” With his free hand, he took one last chocolate from the plate--but instead of placing it in Grinnaux’s expectantly open mouth, he stuffed it into his own. “Mmmmf--”

 

And maybe it was only because he was starving and desperate--maybe only because he was overstimulated--no, most likely because he’d never been so aroused before in his life--he came and it took him by surprise, immediately warm and wet against his cock, and his shuddering leading him to slump against Grinnaux’s front, swallowing and then moaning from sheer pleasure.

 

There was silence for a moment, and then Grinnaux let out a breath he’d been holding in a long, pleased sigh. “Paulecrain,” he said. “Help him out of those clothes, they need laundered.”

 

Paulecrain’s obedience was immediate, the mattress tilting as he knelt on it and pulled a limp Francel off of Grinnaux, holding his host against his front as he began unlacing the bliaud’s front. It was hardly the most efficient way to strip a man; even Francel, hazy-minded as he was, could realize that--but it was the way to show off for Grinnaux’s benefit. And it didn’t take long for Francel to realize this as well--and then decide to participate as more than object of desire.

 

Making a show of stretching, Francel reached up to snake an arm around Paulecrain’s neck, and arched his back to push his arse into the other man’s groin. When the outer jacket of the bliaud hung open, he faked a gasp of ‘surprise,’ tilting his head back to try and kiss Paulecrain (who obligingly bent his neck so Francel could reach his jawline). “Tender thing,” Paulecrain murmured in his ears, pulling the hem of his shirt up and exposing the skin of his abdomen.

 

“I’m sweet, too,” Francel returned, picking up on the double-entendre game quickly. With his free hand, he tugged his collar open and invited Paulecrain to “Taste?”

 

Paulecrain didn’t need to be told twice, descending to kiss and then _bite_ at the crook of his neck, hungry enough to make Francel gasp. His hands on Francel’s shirt fumbled (evidently the prospect of even some satisfaction, of finally getting to touch and taste, was affecting his ability to multitask)--after a moment’s stillness, he gave up with the buttons and simply pulled it down and apart.

 

“Ah--aaahh--” No one had ever been this rough with Francel before; his surprised gasping wasn’t just for show. Awkwardly, he tried to wriggle free of the jacket and shirt--difficult, when he was being held by someone much stronger than him, much more interested in kissing his neck and groping over the bare skin of his chest and belly, in having him rather than freeing him.

 

“You are--mm, you are…” Paulecrain was whispering in his ear. As he did, he pulled at that bliaud more--seams were giving, Francel could feel it--might have been able to hear it, if Paulecrain hadn’t kept on talking, “Sweet and tender noble son--Halone’s _teats_ but when we’re finished with you, oh, they’ll have to carry you back to your rooms in a litter, you won’t be walking for days…”

 

Francel took in breath sharply--the colder air of the room against all of his upper body finally registered, as did the limp rustling sounds of the bliaud’s remains being tossed aside. “Was--nngh, was ruining that really necessary?”

 

“Well, the idea was to ruin _you_ ,” Grinnaux remarked, lewd tone with a lewd grin. “I don’t see a problem with ruining some clothes as well.”

 

“You’re--nngh!” Francel was cut off by Paulecrain resuming doing as his master had bid: stripping him and making a point of groping at his cock over his trousers. “You’re _confident_ \--” Turnabout being fair play, he reached behind him, into Paulecrain’s open trousers, to pull out his cock and…

 

“Mmm, with good reason,” Paulecrain said, fondly kissing Francel’s temple as the younger man tried to process what he had his hand around.

 

It was Paulecrain’s hand going under his trousers that stirred Francel back to the present--and even if he was ...ridiculous… that didn’t somehow make a common-born knight more entitled to the ability to speak and think clearly than Francel. So even as Paulecrain stroked him and coaxed him back to erection, Francel pumped Paulecrain’s cock, firm and almost rough and soon rewarded by his panting in his ears, hot breath and rendered pleasingly wordless.

 

“I think he likes you,” Grinnaux said with wry understatement, as Francel ‘helpfully’ squirmed until the waist of his trousers was at his knees. “Or at least he finds a big cock appetizing.” It fell to Grinnaux to pull those trousers the rest of the way off; Paulecrain was clearly too occupied with Francel to do it.

 

“I--I did miss dinner,” Francel said, Grinnaux chuckled and took a chocolate from the plate--expectant, Francel opened his mouth, but instead found himself released--he tossed the piece to Paulecrain, who caught it one-handed.

 

“Want it?” he asked Francel, who (now free) turned to face him, sitting on the bed. When Francel nodded, Paulecrain leaned back, beckoned with his free hand, and held the chocolate next to the head of his cock with the other. “Come and get it.”

 

He didn’t need to be told twice. Francel leaned down and eagerly took first the chocolate, then the head of Paulecrain’s cock into his mouth. “Mmm…” the chocolate was melting rapidly, Francel helping it along, swirling his tongue over it and the even-more-delicious cock; he pulled off of Paulecrain long enough to swallow--swallow and breathe out a blissful sigh close enough that the other man could feel the breath of it on his wet cock. Then he licked his lips and went back to work.

 

“Fuck--” Paulecrain groaned as Francel tasted him--ran the small tip of his tongue up the ridge underneath, broadening and softening to fully lick round the head before wrapping his lips around it again. “Fuck, I--” Francel softly pumped the shaft with one hand, fondled his heavy balls with the other, and with his hungry mouth-- “ _Fuck_ , Grinnaux, he--mmmf, he was telling the truth.” Paulecrain fisted one hand in Francel’s hair, pushing him further down. “He knows his way around a prick.”

 

Francel hummed his approval of the compliment, prompting another pleasured gasp from Paulecrain--but started as he felt a hand run over and between his thighs from behind. “Well, then,” Grinnaux said, toying with Francel’s balls, rubbing the pad of his thumb against his taint. “You’ll have to tell us who it was, if we’re not your firsts.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “We’ll send him a thank-you for loosening you up for us.”

 

The only response Francel could give was a choked sound and a shiver running all through--which, judging by how Paulecrain moaned, met with at least his approval. He was pushing Francel further and further down on his cock, almost with every labored breath he took--and Francel, whose mouth was so full he could barely move his tongue anymore, didn’t resist him. Timing his breaths, clenching his fists, one last push and one big swallow and then…

 

“Gods-- _Gods_ , you--” Paulecrain had both hands on Francel’s head, holding him in place as he rocked his hips with increasing vigor. “You want it straight--mmmf, straight down your gullet, I’ll--” Francel tried only to concentrate on relaxing, on staying still but it was so hard with Grinnaux’s hand on his cock, pulling lazily and irregularly like he was trying to make it harder, leaving him shivering and with moans vibrating through his throat, “I’m going to-- _fuck_ , your pretty little mouth, I--fuck--I…”

 

Paulecrain, despite the increasingly frantic pace of his voice in buildup, was almost silent in climax, only gasping and then letting out breath in a hiss as he came--good as his word, down Francel’s throat, and still going even as he released his head and let him relinquish his cock, leaving the last drops on Francel’s lips.

 

Hazily, still dazed, Francel licked his lips and swallowed--then again, his throat sore from being stretched. He pushed himself shakily onto hands and knees--and gasped in surprise as Grinnaux took hold of his hips and pulled him down on the bed, head hitting the pillows.

 

Before he could speak, Grinnaux had turned his head to face him and was kissing him--pushing his mouth open and hungrily exploring, tongue inside but--but, Francel noticed most of all how soft and full his lips were, much more than he’d expected. “Tasty, isn’t he?” Grinnaux asked when he’d pulled away, when Francel nodded, he gave him a knowing smile. “But all the seed in the world isn’t going to slake you, though, is it?”

 

Francel blinked--then smiled, and this time he initiated a kiss, softer and subtler than Grinnaux’s impatient, hungry ones. “More…” he said as he pulled away, mimicking the tone Grinnaux had used earlier--not lost on the other man in the slightest.

 

“More of me,” he said as he pulled Francel back atop him, where this evening had begun. Bracing himself against Grinnaux’s belly as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, Francel then let his hands wander over the hard, taut skin.

 

“As much as you can give me,” he said, lowering his voice to something at least trying for sultry.

 

Grinnaux chuckled and pushed Francel back, until his arse was pressing against his--oh gods, that...certainly was his cock… and then Grinnaux was laughing even harder at Francel’s surprise. “ _Gladly._ ”

 

Francel twisted and reached behind him--yes, it was as he’d thought, thick and long with a broad head and--and already slick with some kind of lubrication (so this was what Grinnaux had been doing while Francel’s eyes and mouth had been on Paulecrain’s cock…) and he’d been waiting so long already, his patience must be at the breaking--

 

“Up,” Grinnaux prompted, and Francel raised himself onto his knees, awkwardly scooting backwards into position, while Grinnaux guided his cock with one hand--with the other… “Open wide,” he crooned, holding three chocolates and shoving all of them into Francel’s mouth the moment he complied.

 

“Mmm?” Francel managed through a full mouth--but then Grinnaux took hold of his hips, urging him down and-- ”Mmmf--!” it became clear that it was meant to muffle him.

 

“Relax--” Francel nodded in response to Grinnaux’s urging, but--but oh, this was more overwhelming than he’d imagined--how much bigger was this? He had to have at least three ilms on--

 

“--Nnngh,” Francel’s eyes were squeezed shut and his hands on Grinnaux’s belly were trembling from how much he had to work to stay relaxed where it mattered--the tension mounting everywhere else, making his toes curl, his jaw tightening as he attempted to chew and--

 

“Good,” Grinnaux breathed--Francel cracked one eye open to see him licking his lips before sighing. “You’re almost there, almost--”

 

Three things happened at once: Grinnaux finally hilted inside of Francel, Francel managed to swallow his overfull mouthful of chocolate, and a spurt of seed landed on Grinnaux’s front, white against his dark skin.

 

“--There,” Grinnaux finished smugly, as Francel moaned loud and unrestrained (and a watching Paulecrain swore softly under his breath).

 

He lacked the vigor to ride Grinnaux properly--but still, Francel moved atop him, more undulating than anything else, riding out aftershocks. He was sensitive (even the brushing of his flaccid cock against anything was enough to make him gasp) but--not _finished_. Not yet, not enough… “Mmm--feels good,” he said, quietly--then “ _Really_ good…” picking up the pace as he did.

 

Grinnaux was strong enough to manhandle Francel easily--and as Francel began to move faster, he took hold of his hips--angling, setting a rhythm, and sighing as Francel followed the guidance. “Nngh--fuck, I knew you’d be a good tight squeeze--” he interrupted himself with a gasp as Francel did exactly that. “--but I didn’t peg dessert for being this voracious.”

 

Giving Grinnaux a shaky smile, Francel leaned forward and stroked his guest’s chest and sides, gently, almost lovingly. “Still--ahh, I still want more, Grinnaux.” The last word was a bit garbled--as Grinnaux bucked under him, forcefully.

 

“You’ll get it,” he said, in a very low voice as he started to move sinuously underneath him, complementing Francel’s increasing vigor. “Oh, you’ll get exactly what you’re asking for…”

 

The oversensitivity had gone (even if he was still soft), it was easier for Francel to ride Grinnaux, panting from exertion as he pushed himself up and down on his cock (the most strenuous workout his thighs had had in a while). And it was-- _delicious_ , even more than the sensation was the sight of Grinnaux’s face as he began to sweat and shudder, darkened eyes and parted lips and something other than-- _less_ than--Dzemael’s paragon of a knight, a holy brother of the Ward. All of it--Francel _twisted_ a bit and reveled in the way Grinnaux gasped--all of it because of him…

 

“Fuck--Gods, you little--” Grinnaux managed to let go of Francel long enough to reach once more for the plate, and the last three truffles there. He held the first to Francel--and Francel almost bit his hand going for it, finishing it in a hurry, almost as fast as he was riding Grinnaux--

 

“More,” he panted, and Grinnaux groaned as he obliged him, watching not his face but his throat.

 

“You--nngh, you really are a poor little starveling…” he said, smiling even through his heavy panting--but as he gave Francel the last piece, Francel took his wrist, held his big, calloused hand to his lips, sucking the first two fingers into his mouth. And Grinnaux’s smile faded to the expression of a starving man himself as he watched Francel’s-- _felt_ Francel’s red and swollen lips alternately tighten around and caress his fingers, his wet tongue slide over pad and nail, hungry and promising--his eyes promising too, Francel never broke eye contact, watched him longingly…

 

“Next time--” Grinnaux managed, voice hoarse, “next time--oh, Halone’s--ohhh!” And unlike Paulecrain, he did cry out loudly as he came, his one-handed gripping of Francel’s hip leaving red marks, his back arching off the mattress for trembling seconds, before collapsing back down in a shivering heap. For a moment, there was no sound but breathing--Grinnaux, trying to catch his breath, and Francel, unsteady as he gently rolled his hips, easing his guest down--and building himself back up, already mostly hard, already ready.

 

“Again?” Francel said in a breathy, dazed voice--if he could get his eyes to focus right he would have given Grinnaux a taunting look. Here, the greatest son of Dzemael had been promising to overwhelm him, but if he was still going to just lie there--

 

“Oh, _please_ ,” came Paulecrain’s voice from behind him, and Francel gasped as he was plucked off of Grinnaux like he weighed nothing at all. Paulecrain clutched him close, affectionate--no, _hungry_ , leaning in to leave bitten kisses all down his neck. “You--mm, you put on such a show,” With barely any effort apparent, Paulecrain pushed Francel face-down into the bed, holding him there with his weight, “I had to come back for more.”

 

Paulecrain reached above Francel’s head, as his host worked to at least get up enough to be able to breathe, retrieving a pillow and deftly sliding it under Francel’s hips. Then he was pressing against him, cock resting in the cleft of his arse as he tested the give of the pillow and springs--and Francel shivered in anticipation, for this surely meant that--

 

“Ready?” Paulecrain murmured in his ear--Francel replied by spreading his legs further apart, prompting a chuckle from the other man. “Brace yourself.”

 

Francel should have listened to him. Instead, he found himself actually yelping and scrabbling for a grip, fists full of coverlets--this wasn’t like the last times he’d been taken from behind, Paulecrain was larger, was rougher, was _coarser_. His hands on him were rough and hard, his pace was harsh and left Francel rocking on the bed from the force of it--his voice was coarsest of all.

 

“You’re--ngh, you’re fucking delicious,” Paulecrain was growling in his ear,  “I like highborn brats under me--’specially when they’re pleading for more, for _me_ \--”

 

And Francel was doing exactly that--maybe not in those words, but in those motions: pushing back to meet him, craning his head back to try and kiss him--and when that failed, even awkwardly trying to stroke his leg with his foot. It was obvious he was desperate for more contact, for more friction, for more _everything_ , even without his voice high and pleasured and babbling, “I love--mmm, it’s so good, I--I like big and thick and--and I want--and I--just…”

 

“More?”

 

That deep voice wasn’t Paulecrain’s. Grinnaux was leaning close to Francel--delicately taking the tip of his long ear into his mouth, nipping at it playfully. “You’ll get _exactly_ what you want.”

 

Then he was prodding Paulecrain’s shoulder and once again, Paulecrain seemed to know just what his master wanted. Wrapping his arms around Francel, he rolled them over, so that when Francel’s head came to rest on his shoulder, Francel was gazing up into Grinnaux’s face.

 

“Ready?” Grinnaux was asking this time as Paulecrain hooked his hands under Francel’s knees, bending his legs up and spreading up them wide. He didn’t move, though, until Francel’s arms were on his shoulders, pulling him in.

 

“Yes--Yes, I want-- _oh_ \--I wannnnnt, ngh,” Francel panted, digging his fingernails into Grinnaux’s back as he felt himself being stretched further, Grinnaux’s fingers sliding next to Paulecrain’s cock to test him. “Mm--please--I’m ready…” And with an unusually affectionate kiss to his forehead, Grinnaux was guiding his cock inside.

 

“Ah--” Francel’s eyes went from half-lidded to squeezed shut to wide open, “Ahh, it’s--” his knees gripped Grinnaux’s sides and his toes curled, “ _Aaahh_ \--”

 

“Careful, Grinnaux,” Paulecrain said, and Francel couldn’t rightly see his face from this angle, but he could practically hear the smug smile. “Nobility’s more delicate than me.”

 

“He can take it,” Grinnaux said, though he was barely audible next to how hard Francel was panting, his narrow chest shuddering and eyelids fluttering. “Now--give his lordship what he wanted.”

 

They were gentle at first. Paulecrain could barely move underneath the both of them, but he made up for it by reaching around, stroking Francel’s cock in time with their motions. Grinnaux thrust slowly but heavily, pushing in deep before withdrawing almost to the head and repeating, keeping time and punctuated by Francel’s sharp gasps. “Oh, gods--oh, _gods_ , I never--”

 

“Of course-- _nnngh_ , ‘course you’ve never been properly stuffed before,” Grinnaux said slyly, grinding hard against Francel. “We never bedded you before.”

 

“Harder--harder, _please_ \--”

 

Paulecrain squeezed his cock, then ran his thumb over the tip, spreading the presaging fluid over the tip. “Mmm--like that?”

 

“Yes--” Francel squirmed between the two Dzemael knights--and cried out as Grinnaux bucked hard. “Like that!”

 

“You--oh, _gods_ \--you heard him--” Paulecrain was gasping underneath Francel (and he could feel it, feel his ribs and belly moving under his back), also affected by how-- “Fuck-- _ohhh_ , fuck that little--” --Grinnaux’s pace was steadily increasing.

 

“Mmmf--” Grinnaux’s voice was nothing more than muffled moans, as he pressed his mouth to Francel’s jaw, kissing with increasing intensity as he moved to his mouth--and then it was like he was trying to suck the breath out of him, devouring, as the bed creaked and groaned beneath them--

 

“I--I’m going to--Grinnaux, wait--I--” What Paulecrain wanted to wait for was never vocalized, he came inside Francel hot, plentiful, his hand on Francel’s cock tensing and trembling--

 

\--until one final splash wet his fingers, any noise Francel might have made smothered by Grinnaux’s mouth, but with both his arms around his neck and fingernails scratching his shoulders, shuddering all through and squirming, squeezing him--

 

\--until Francel felt another surge of seed inside of him, and then Grinnaux’s big hands on his ribs, pulling him down to the mattress as well as he collapsed on his side. For a blissful moment, all that Francel knew contracted to the bed, the three of them all desperate for air, and an immense sense of satisfaction, weighing heavy but comforting on him, like a pile of blankets. Although--

 

“...can’t walk,” he murmured, after a test wiggle of his lower body, prompting breathless laughter from the other two.

 

“You’ll just have to stay,” Grinnaux said, sitting up to pull the actual blankets up over them. “Anyone asks, you were just warming the sheets in lieu of warm coals.”

 

Francel furrowed his brow. “No one’s going to believe that.” Not the staff, not his father, not his brothers, not--

 

There was a knock at the door.

 

Francel jerked in surprise that rapidly turned to alarm--he had to hide--but Grinnaux and Paulecrain were two steps ahead of him (they really must have made a habit out of this): Paulecrain got out of the bed to answer it, and Grinnaux pulled Francel close to him, on his side between him and the door--his sheer breadth hiding Francel quite effectively.

 

“What is it?” There was a thin line of light into the room as Paulecrain put on a ‘sleepy’ tone, as if he’d been roused from sleep.

 

“We can’t find Francel.” And here Francel jerked with fear, recognizing Aurvael’s voice. “Staff said you summoned him, and no one’s seen him since.”

 

“We’re not your brother’s keepers,” Paulecrain said, dismissive. “Go look somewhere else and let us sleep.” In the darkness, all Francel could really see was the beam of light behind Grinnaux--and the other man’s smile. Then the light was gone, and once more Paulecrain was climbing into the bed from the opposite side, scooting close to sandwich Francel between him and his master.

 

“What happens in the morning?” Francel asked, though exhaustion was overpowering his (usually very impressive) capacity to worry--indeed, he was already closing his eyes and relaxing against Grinnaux, lazily stroking his side and belly.

 

  
“If I get my way?” Grinnaux said. “Breakfast in bed.”


End file.
